


it's forever christmas eve

by itiswhatitisbutterfly



Series: vows [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, all the fluff tags tbh, harry and louis are the grossest parents ever, i'd know they're my parents, it's the same kids from my other fic but pretty much stand alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2822735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itiswhatitisbutterfly/pseuds/itiswhatitisbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The kitchen is flooded with the sound of small bells jingling every few seconds from Santa hats and the lovely accompaniment of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” The music comes from the record player in the next room and the six chiming bells come from each of the Tomlinson children’s Christmas hats as they scamper about.</p><p>Louis watches from his spot guarding the edible decorations and holding onto a over active two year old who is hell bent on grabbing them and stuffing her mouth. He watches over all the kids with careful eyes as they run about in their red, green and white outfits, thinking to himself, I’ve done pretty good.</p><p>(Christmas with Harry and Louis, and their children including gingerbread houses, musical duets, gift wrapping and reindeer appreciation)</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's forever christmas eve

**Author's Note:**

> This is stand alone (but does feature as a part of a collection, you don't need to have read the first ones but if you want to read them feel free!) (And for people who have read them Hi, I promised I would eventually write something more! Hope you enjoy it x)
> 
> I'm sorry if the Christmas traditions are off, truth be told I've avoided writing a Christmas fic for a while because I have Christmas in summer and we do weird shit. That is probably why everything is so cliché in this story. Sorry. 
> 
> (The kids ages and names: Mackenzie 13, Liberity 10, Elliot and Grayson 8, Addison 6, and Peyton 2.)
> 
> Shout out to my little sister, who is 9 but still going strong for Santa and will probably make my Christmas day by waking everyone in our house up at 7 am.

The kitchen is flooded with the sound of small bells jingling every few seconds from Santa hats and the lovely accompaniment of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” The music comes from the record player in the next room and the six chiming bells come from each of the Tomlinson children’s Christmas hats as they scamper about.

Louis watches from his spot guarding the edible decorations and holding onto a over active two year old who is hell bent on grabbing them and stuffing her mouth. He watches over all the kids with careful eyes as they run about in their red, green and white outfits, thinking to himself, I’ve done pretty good.

It’s gingerbread decorating time and the kitchen is flooded, there are too many hands and feet to count and everyone is having a wonderful time (because it is the most _wonderful_ time of the year). It’s cold so the fire is on down the hall and the heat is turned up high, all of their toes are covered and if they want, since it is a very special occasion, there's hot chocolate available for everyone. Also, marshmallows on special request and only available if you aren’t on the naughty list (which, since they are perfect angels, is all of them).

“Are they almost ready?” Addison Tomlinson asks pressing her face up toward the oven, her breath fogging the glass, and stepping as tall as she can on her tippy toes in her spotted elf socks. Her hat jingles as her head pops up and she juts her chin out. “Are they almost done?” she repeats, looking away from inside the oven to look at her father inquisitively like he holds all the answers in the universe. Because, she thinks he does.

Another head pokes next to hers, taller and smarter, pressing a wide blinking eye up against the glass. “I think they’re ready,” Elliot reports, an obvious baking expert from his many hours spent in the kitchen acting as sous chef. He taps his finger against the glass pointing out the soon to be walls, doors and roofs.

Harry hums idly as he places a bowl on the table filled with red liquorice next to the colourful sprinkles, chocolates, smashed candy canes and icing in piping bags. He tries desperately not to laugh at the look Louis gives him as Peyton tries to stick a proper candy cane up his nose or into his eye. “It’s a present,” she whispers quietly with a little lisp as she tries to jam it against his face, her two year old mind still not fully grasping the concept of gift giving _quite yet_. Nonetheless she is still being very generous and kind like she has been taught, Harry’s heart warms.

Harry counts to make sure they have everything they need before he hears the tell tale sign of another Santa hat and another head jamming its way against the oven door. There is some small whispering and Louis and Harry share another look of amusement.

“They’re ready! Hurry up or they are going to _burn_!” Liberity shouts, overpowering everyone else and causing her younger siblings to panic and fall into a state of emergency.

“What?” Grayson shouts as he shoves them all away in a flurry. He trusts his older sisters opinion fully without a doubt. “Dad! Don’t let them _burn_!” he shouts turning quickly to look at both of his parents equally with panic in his eyes and wide spread arms.

Harry, trying his best not to laugh at the shocked face Louis gives him across the table, stands up to go get the gingerbread out of the oven. “Let’s have a look then,” he says looking at the four heads glued where they can spot a small view. They make quite an adorable scene, four little red hats and Christmas socks waiting impatiently. They are the best little helpers anyone could ask for. Harry grabs the oven mitts and hums along to the Christmas music playing smiling happily and his own reindeer eared headband bopping along adding some festive sounds.

“They’re going to burn,” Addison gasps suddenly with a wobbling voice, her tiny fists pressing against the glass and her mouth making a tiny little O shape.

They aren’t going to burn.

“Alright,” Harry says crouching down to their level and putting on an equally serious expression of pressed lips, and furrowed brows to match his children's worried looks. This gingerbread business is no joke. “Can we all take two steps back and away from the oven?” he says looking in through the glass. They are a lovely golden colour.

The four pairs of feet step back politely with their arms behind their backs and their little feet together. Their father looks at them with a smile and then back at the oven door, “A little more,” he says with a wave of a hand. They step back again and their Santa hats chime. Now happy with the space between their little hands, feet and fingers and the hot oven Harry opens the door.

They aren’t burning, they are just right so he pulls one tray out carefully and sets it on the bench top.

“Do you need help?” Louis asks. He probably now has a candy cane in his ear.

“It’s fine,” Harry says grabbing another tray, this time gingerbread men and women, and setting it next to the others.

“He has help,” Elliot replies from where he stands politely watching and being the best helper in the world with his hands behind his back and his tippy toes letting him look at what has been placed on the counter.

Louis laughs and Harry smiles as he takes the last tray out and switches the gages off. “Now,” he starts, “You do know they all have to cool before we decorate them.”

He hates being the bearer of bad news, especially on Christmas eve.

“What?” Mackenzie says, their oldest daughter's head finally leaving her phone, her eyebrows almost touching her hairline and her hat jangling about. “We have to wait for them to cool?”

“That’s right,” Louis replies. This isn’t the first time they have told them, this is just the first time they have bothered to listen.

“We did all that prep work and cleaned the kitchen,” she moans, yanking her hat off her and throwing it onto the table.

“Can’t fight science, chemistry and all that,” her father replies again as she pouts spectacularly.

“It’s true,” Harry says leaving them on the counter and putting a hand on a hip.

All the small eager faces in the kitchen quickly look around at each other in a state of panic. Their Christmas cheer quickly spoiled and their shoulders slumping in their hand knitted Christmas jumpers.

“Oh it’s alright,” Harry says switching the kettle on, “It’s not going to take all that long. It’s pretty chilly.”

“There are plenty of things we can do while we wait,” Louis says in addition to the point Harry made, whilst he rocks Peyton back and forth on his knees.

“Like what?” Addison asks, always insightful and always inquisitive.

“Well, we can’t build a snowman because there is no snow,” Libby points out. “It’s just rainy and cold.”

“We still haven’t been ice skating because of this rain,” Mackenzie sighs, still pouting but grabbing her discarded hat back and putting it on her head.

There are plenty of good Christmasy options they can choose from and it takes a while for them all to come to an agreement. In the meanwhile the music gets turned up louder and everyone dances around, their socks slipping all over the hardwood floors and small bodies clashing into each other erupting into fits of giggles as they are spun around and around. It’s the best alternative they have for ice skating since it’s raining and all that and the girls love been spun around by their papa or chasing their brothers down the hall. Their golden retriever with its big paws even decides to join in, chasing them around in circles.

“Papa, please sing the song,” Addison pleads getting down on her knees. Peyton, her ever constant shadow copies and echoes, “Please papa, please.”

Louis puts his pointer finger against his lips and then zips them shut. The girls smile back at him and Addison does her best wink (she tries her best, it’s more of a two eyed wink than anything else). Louis creeps over to the record player and turns it off, cutting the music and all that left is high pitched giggles and laughter from the kids. Louis switches the song he wants on through his phone and the first notes that echo through the speakers cause a loud cheer and applause.

“I don’t want a lot for Christmas there is just one thing I need,” Louis sings along with Mariah dramatically, sneaking up behind his husband and grabbing him around the waist, capturing him away from their children suddenly.

“Oh no,” Harry screams kicking his legs out and trying to resist, giggling at the kids as he gets serenaded and a pair of arms wrap around his middle surprising a squeak out of him. All six of the kids, including Peyton laugh loudly as Louis sings, “I don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree-”

“Sing with me,” Louis whispers to the shell of Harry’s ear. Harry tries to suppress his laughter enough to stutter out a line dramatically and shake his hips.

Louis eventually gets down on his knees to plead. Harry eventually picks him up and spins him around. They successfully don’t hit anything and they only can’t get the lines out because of laughter five times which might be a new record. The best part is when they eventually spin the kids around the kitchen and dining room until they too can’t stop laughing peppering their faces with kisses and dragging them back for more when they scamper off.

It’s completely stupid but the goofiest type of fun. Because when you are young there is nothing like watching your parents be desperately in love, even if it is the silliest kind, and Louis knows he can see it in the sparkles in their eyes as they watch him dip Harry down in his arms and kiss his nose. They blink back at them with the same wonder in their eyes as when they watch the lights on the tree or the first sign of snow from the windowpane.

After all the singing, dancing and laughing they end up on the sofa in a neat row covered in blankets and just their little hands with their peppermint hot chocolates visible. And their red and white hats poking out in a festive line. It’s not until the Christmas film ends that the gingerbread is cooled and small hands yank their daddy off the couch and out of their papa’s lap because there is no time for cuddling when their are houses to decorate.

It’s organised chaos, as per usual with the Tomlinsons.

“The first rule is we don’t put icing in our sisters hair,” Louis says supervising the use of icing piping very carefully and watching as his sons look back over their shoulders with the guiltiest of expressions. “And we use the decorations to decorate not eat,” Louis says watching Harry put candy cane into his mouth as he tries to assist Peyton and her disaster house. He stops his hand half way and reaches across the divide to shove at his shoulder. He also throws a piece at Louis’ forehead while he thinks no one under ten is watching.

“No throwing food,” Addison says, crossing her arms but not moving her gaze away from her very creative and innovative design.

The house smells completely like sweet baked goods and peppermint chocolate, with a hint of pine from the tree. The Christmas music keeps playing and the kids bop along as they giggle and laugh sticking all sorts of treats onto their houses, some more creative and artistic than others who simply pile on as much as they can fit because of their sweet tooth cravings.

The boys accidentally make matching houses, Ellie claiming it was his original plan that got stolen by Grayson. Mackenzie puts six small gingerbread men outside her home with two slighter bigger ones and calls it a coincidence. Libby eats one of her walls before she can finish it, her three wall house looks more like a tent than a stable house for three. Addison and Peyton are the pair that seem to deliberately load on as many sweets as they can with little regard for aesthetic look. They each giggle with the guiltiest of expressions as their roofs collapse due to overloading.

.

Addison chews on her bottom lip continually as she is tucked into bed and Louis watches her from the corner of his eye. All was said and done, they left some carrots out for the reindeer and her brothers had carefully poured a glass of milk and laid out a plate of cookies that were made earlier in the day. The stockings are hanging and all the lights were turning out as all the good boys and girls went to sleep. She continued to have a worrisome expression cover her face and it furrows her tiny brows.

“What’s bothering you,” Louis says pulling the blankets up high toward her chin, he tilts his head in questioning. “What is on your mind boo.”

She watches him carefully with soft brown eyes unsure if she should speak up, her eyes dart to the door and back again checking to make sure nobody is listening in.

“You promise not to tell?” she stutters out. He nods, but she still wiggles her hand out from beneath the comforter to extend a pinky. Louis takes her tiny finger in his and she seems satisfied after that.

“Do you love me as much as you love daddy?” she asks, with a never faulting voice and a steady gaze. She is the sweetest little thing in the world with rosy cheeks and big blinking innocent eyes in her princess comforter and Spiderman pyjamas.

He has no idea where this has come from.

“It’s just you hold his hand a lot more than you hold mine,” she stutters out with a pouted bottom lip as her hand comes up to cover her face embarrassed.

Louis tries not to laugh. “Are you jealous?” he whispers with a sparkle in his eyes.

“No,” she says quickly, her arms folding over her chest. “‘S just I was wondering.”

“Of course I love you more than him,” he says covering his mouth and whispering it into the room with a wink that makes her eyes light up.

Addison shakes her head as if to say that is impossible. She smiles the same childish grin as she says, “That must be all the love in the world then.”

He thinks he knows what she means because he sees it in her eyes every time she watches her daddies with a gaze of awe and admiration. “I won’t tell him,” she adds, with a cheeky grin. “I don’t want him getting jealous.”

As if right on cue Harry’s head pops around the door frame with a cheeky little smile and a knowing look. “Have you brushed your teeth?” he asks Addison. Louis replies yes instantly to the question he was not asked causing Addison to giggle, both at his silly behaviour and at the way her dad pokes a tongue out back at him.

“Yes,” she laughs nodding her head. “I did it myself and everything!”

Louis mouths quietly, “With a little help.” Because he knows Harry knows that she isn’t that skilled in the teeth brushing department, there is something weird about the way kids like to eat toothpaste.

“Good,” he sing songs back and pantomimes brushing teeth, “Because Santa doesn’t come to girls who don’t have clean teeth.”

Her eyebrows jump and she looks between them panicked. “Maybe I should re-brush them?” she says with big wide eyes and concern, about to slip out from the covers and scamper back to the bathroom.

“He’s lying!” shouts one of her brothers from down the hall, obviously not sleeping and obviously listening in. “He’s teasing you!” the other one adds, just as loud and defiant.

“Santa also doesn’t come to boys who don’t sleep when they are supposed to,” Louis shouts back adding fuel to the fire and enjoying it.

“That’s not true!” “Yeah, that’s a lie!”

“You’ll jus-” Louis starts before catching the look on Harry’s face, the look that says there is a two year old sleeping in the next room and I don’t want her awake because we have millions of presents to wrap and I have a fruit cake to bake.

Louis shoots him a look of apology and prays they don’t hear any crying. If he does, he’ll blame the kids. They started it. Not his fault.

“I was joking,” Harry whispers as he shuts the door stepping into the room and ducking down to peck his daughters cheek. “You’re perfect. Definitely on the good list with no need to worry.” He tells her with a wink, “I know, Santa told me.”

“Really?” she asks, grinning from ear to ear at the thought. It’s insulting she could think there is the slightest possibility she isn’t completely and utterly fully made of sunshine perfection. Louis is biased though, but technically he is Santa, so his word goes.

“Those brothers and sisters of yours though,” Louis adds with a worried expression shaking his head and looking sullen. Harry copies him looking regretful so she giggles and kicks her legs, cuddling her plush snowman close.

“Goodnight Addy,” he says kissing her again and reaching for her bedside lamp. She grabs his arm before he can reach it, “Wait,” she says looking between Harry and Louis, her parents stopping to listen.

“Can you make sure the reindeer get their carrots?” she asks, “Everyone leaves food for Santa but the reindeer do hard work. I don’t want them hungry.”

She wrings her hands together and bites at her bottom lip again, so innocently concerned with such delightful intentions. “Of course,” Louis replies softly. “And we’ll make sure Santa reads the letter you wrote for them to them.”

She seems satisfied with that answer and sits back against her pillows cuddling her snowman tight. Harry switches off the lamp and stands up from the edge of the bed. “Goodnight boo,” Louis says with a promise to see her in the morning as they walk out of her room arm in arm, leaving her to her adventures in dreamland one hundred percent sure she will be out like a light as soon as her head hits the pillow from all of their adventures today.

.

Harry tosses Louis a box of glitter crayons and then throws a colourful scarf at his head before he can catch it. “Hey,” Louis says yanking it off his face so he can see Harry laughing back at him from across the floor.

“Keep up,” he replies, grabbing another present, this time a book and throwing it. Louis grabs it with quick hands and fist pumps the air when he does so. He arches his eyebrows at his husband flexing his arm.

“Skilled hands,” he says with a wink and earning him a scoff. He goes to put them on the floor in front of him and Harry makes a choking sound. “Don’t. Mix. Them. Up,” he says pointing an accusing finger.

It was one time. And it probably wasn’t Louis fault. He accidentally wraps and gives someone the wrong present once and it’s like he can’t be trusted. He rolls his eyes dramatically before carefully putting them in their own pile that contains Libby’s presents and them alone. Harry approves.

It takes forever. Nobody tells you or trains you for this, Louis thinks as he carefully wraps each present some better than others and some way easier than others. They don’t send you to Santa wrapping workshops before you have kids. Although that being said, they have been doing this for awhile now. Louis looks across the divide at Harry’s three perfect piles and then down at his shocking job. It sucks how sometimes Santa does really good wrapping for some people and other kids get a second rate job. He pouts at Harry and his overachieving.

Harry laughs and looks way too proud of his perfect work. “I wrapped it myself,” he says with a wink and an expression that says he knows exactly what he is doing.

“Go bake your fruitcake,” Louis retorts. Both because Harry isn’t allowed to constantly be this good at wrapping every year and because of that sappy memory he has just brought up that has Louis feeling all giddy.

“I’ll bake your fruitcake,” Harry replies, all serious and sensual without missing a beat. It lasts for about three seconds as Louis stares at him, mouth hanging open and ready to throw a roll of wrapping paper at his head. Harry bursts out into laughter and rolls over onto his back along the floor.

“Get out of my house,” Louis laughs, pointing at the door of their bedroom. He can’t help but laugh along as his husband practically laughs himself into a state on the carpet amongst the colourfully printed papers.

“No,” Harry giggles rolling amongst the ribbons, over tired, worn out and past the point of sanity.

They don’t get into bed until after midnight. They carefully sneak the presents down from their room, down the stairs and to where the six Christmas stocking lay waiting. Louis prays his piles don’t mix any up, and Harry watches him like a hawk to make sure. They don’t need someone getting an accidental Action Man toy they didn’t wish for in their stocking again.

“I’ll eat the cookies,” Louis says grabbing at them from their spot next to the fireplace and scooping them up with a shit eating grin. He didn’t even help make them. “You can enjoy the carrots.”

Harry downs the glass of milk in one gulp but stares at the three carrots that have been left tapping at his chin and wondering. He can’t eat them. He sneaks them back into the vegetable bin in the kitchen where he hopes no one will notice. As turns back around he notices Louis standing in the doorway with a smug look on his face, he slowly looks up and points to the sky. The doorframe has be adorned with a lovely bunch of mistletoe, which was definitely not there when Harry walked in. Louis’ grin gives away who put it there. “Would you look at that,” he says, whistling low and shaking his head. “I’m standing here, and you seem to be the only person around-”

“What a coincidence,” Harry smiles.

“I think you have to kiss me,” he says with a pout. “I don’t make the rules.”

Harry tries to hold back his laughter as he looks around the room checking to see if there is anyone else, anyone to relieve him of this tiresome duty. “I guess I have to,” he sighs. He steps forward, crossing the divide and making his way over to the threshold as Louis’ eyes him up and down. He gets so close he can count all of Louis’ eyelashes and the freckles on his face. He waits with that same grin, just pouting his lips and batting his eyes. Harry dips his head down just a little and whispers, “Just don’t tell my husband-” as he seals it with a mistletoe adorned kiss to his lips.

They sort through the six letters they have been left, hand written and varying from a scribbled drawing of a little girl to a letter that starts of with, “Hi Dads!” each with their own brand of humour, kindness and love. And one specifically addressed to Santa’s reindeer. Harry bundles them up and finds a good place to hide them so he can keep them forever in a shoebox for the day when they are too old to send letters and drawings.

They carefully write out a letter hunched over the kitchen table huddled together, trying to make their handwriting as untraceable as possible and as Santa like as they can manage. They thank them for the food and specifically thank them for the lovely carrots and for the nice roof to land on. They make sure to tell them they have all been very good this year, and that they should keep up that good behaviour through next year. They leave it tucked under the now empty plate, sealed in an envelope that Harry fills with white glitter sprinkles that look a bit like magical snow (he also sprinkles some along the floor in a trail from the front door) and addressed to the Tomlinson children.

They crawl into bed long past midnight with the fruit cake finished, into each others arms desperately vying for a few hours sleep before the long long day they face ahead of them between family and friends and endless hours of joyful fun.

.  
It’s 6:06 am when Harry hears a random sudden noise. He doesn’t open his eyes, he just hears it and floats back to sleep quickly. It’s quarter past that he hears quick little feet running down the hallway, followed by another pair and another.

“What’s that?” Harry mumbles into a pillow half asleep, and barely conscious.

Louis hears a door close at 6:20 and he thinks it must be not even two minutes later that the dog barks. It’s followed by multiple feet scampering up and down the stairs and back again.

It’s 6:29 am when someone tugs at Louis’ shoulder with a cold hand. “Hey,” that someone whispers softly. “Wake up,” another someone else says from the end of the bed.

It’s dark and cold but Louis’ dad instincts instantly turn on. He opens his eyes, forcing them to see in the little morning light and rubbing the sleep away with the back of his hand. He’s half asleep and barely knows his own name.

“It’s Christmas!” someone screeches, and thats when he notices six faces staring back at him from the end of the bed, all grinning, even Peyton who must have been kidnapped from her cot and dragged in here in someones arms. “Santa’s been!”

“Get out of bed,” Addison shouts, throwing herself onto the bed and jumping up and down. “Hurry up, we’re got presents to open!”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it!! Merry Christmas! (tumblr: itiswhatitisbutterfly / twitter: arohahl)


End file.
